


These Started as Drabbles....

by Gwynne



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-17
Updated: 2012-06-17
Packaged: 2017-11-07 23:18:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/436541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwynne/pseuds/Gwynne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sorry, they got away from me.</p>
<p>These are just some scattered imaginings. Drabble-oriented. Sort of.</p>
<p>+++++++++++++++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Started as Drabbles....

Ekaterin has tried. Often. And she’s had a degree of success. Or, at least, so it seems, now and then.

But somehow, no matter what is ordered, no matter how much he buys, when Miles goes out in public he’s either in his House uniform, or one of his favourite suits. One of the grey ones. 

Dendarii grey. 

Beautifully made, expensive, well cut, from the finest fabric.

But… Dendarii grey.

Somehow, no matter how much things change, some things stay the same. In his soul Miles is always wearing uniform. Even if it’s the uniform for an army of one. 

+++++++++++++++++++++

The birth of the Imperial heir sent Barrayar into absolute frenzy. Everyone sent gifts, the Residence was overflowing. Most were quietly and tactfully donated to hospitals and orphanages. The expensive ones were stored away until needed for public displays.

Some of the toys, those from family and friends, have after intensive ImpSec examination been placed around the Imperial Nursery.

Laisa loves them, cuddling the soft toys when nobody’s watching, while she waits for the replicator to be opened at last.

One toy puzzles her. Tucked away, among all the lovely, bright, new toys, is an old and battered toy stegosaurus.

+++++++++++++++++++++

Gregor watched Laisa survey his suite. Most young couples have to find a new home. This couple just had to pick a suite of rooms, somewhere in the sprawling Residence.

“We don’t have to use these. There’s dozens of suites.” 

She patted his arm, “They’re fine, if you want to stay here. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with them.”

“But…?”

“But… they’re a bit…um…”

“Cold? Characterless? Spartan? Boring?”

“All of the above. I know you sleep here, but it doesn’t feel as if you live here.”

“Come with me.” He led her along the corridor, up one floor and round the corner. “How about these?”

She stepped into the new suite. They were furnished much like other rooms in the Residence, but they felt somehow different.  
“Oh, I like these. They feel… warmer. Friendly. Can we use this suite?”

He nodded, “Of course. Whatever you want.”

Gregor moved through the rooms comfortably, touching things here and there. The furnishings weren’t new, but the whole suite had been kept in perfect condition, as if the owners were expected back at any moment.

“Oh – there’s a nursery! And enough bedrooms for children… “ She explored the rooms, “And look – low down on the wall in this bedroom – there’s a child’s drawing. Some brave child actually drew on the wall in the Residence! Gregor, that wasn’t you, was it?”

“No, I was always too well-behaved. That was Miles.”

She looked around again, with new eyes, “Gregor…was this…”

“Yes. This is where I lived with Aunt Cordelia, and Aral, and Miles. We lived here as a family. It was… I remember … this was a good time.” The words were quiet, but they carried so much emotion. “I loved it when we lived here.”

“Then this is where we’ll live. With our children.”

She knew it was the right choice by his almost imperceptible relaxation. 

“Gregor?”

“Yes, love?”

“Maybe we should make sure. Check it out. Test….the bed?”

It passed with flying colours.

Afterwards they snuggled together for a while. Gregor sighed, and smiled, “I’m home.”

+++++++++++++++++++++

There’s a reason for everything.

There’s even a reason why Lord Ivan Vorpatril was discovered by the Vorbarr Sultana Municipal Guard, at three o’clock on a cold winter’s morning, clinging grimly to his balcony railing as he dangled three storeys above the street. 

Naked. 

And, amazingly, sober, although somewhat hysterical by the time the rescuers broke into his apartment and dragged him to safety.

The official report filed back at Headquarters, when it was all over, didn’t include too many details. Simply that Lord Ivan had found himself in a somewhat awkward predicament and had been rescued by the brave and timely intervention of the Guard.

The officer in charge of the rescue chose to keep the report simple. He didn’t include Lord Ivan’s furious ramblings, something about the whole debacle being Lord Auditor Vorkosigan’s fault. And a warning not to ever accept gifts from relatives. Especially what Lord Ivan referred to as ‘….bloody dangerous ImpSec-trained covert-agent attack kittens.”

+++++++++++++++++++++

Do your best at school, they tell you. Go to university, they tell you. Study hard, keep your eyes on the future, they keep on telling you. 

And if you work hard enough and get good grades you’ll slide straight into a good job. Then you’ll steadily work your way up and success is assured.

They don’t tell you that your first job, the one on which all your future success depends, will be… what they call a challenge.

It’s not a challenge. It’s a millstone. It’s impossible. 

Nobody in their right mind wants this job. It’s not an opportunity, it’s a punishment.

This is so unfair. I didn’t want this.

My career is doomed.

I’m the new head of the Barrayaran Tourism Board.

+++++++++++++++++++++


End file.
